


Listen to Your Heart

by fallendarknight86



Category: Glee
Genre: Drama, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallendarknight86/pseuds/fallendarknight86
Summary: Quinn and Rachel reconnect after a long time. Will things pick from where they left off? Will they go separate ways for good?





	Listen to Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of late to the 10 years challenge party...enjoy!

**Listen To Your Heart**

 

You need a coffee, badly. You’ve been up since 4 AM and you didn’t have the chance to really catch any sleep on the train ride from New Haven to here, too worried about going over your resume and the company’s website and latest achievements. The job interview has gone well enough, better than your expectations. Your resume is good, even better than then average English Graduate with a year abroad between Cambridge and the Sorbonne. That’s why you’re thinking about getting an extra sweet cup of coffee - one of those that could give you a toothache - and a chocolate chip muffin. You need a guilty pleasure to reward yourself. You earned it and you deserve it. 

 

The nearest Starbucks is just across the Gershwin Theater. You let your eyes roam across the street, with a weird feeling in your gut. Maybe it’s hunger or maybe it’s a secret wish to see a familiar name all over the billboards. Someone’s name that you haven’t seen in more than 4 years, since that fateful night at Mr. Schue’s second attempted wedding to Miss Pillsbury - now Schuester. 

 

You shake your head and just head for the door before entering the warm place that smells like baked goodies and chemically brewed coffee. The place is filled by students with their overpriced laptops and phones or by business people typing away on the iPads and catching up on the news, before sticking themselves in their cubicles to make more money. 

 

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks. I’m Stacy, how may I help you?” A beaming red haired woman, under her green Starbucks hat, greets you. 

 

“Hi.” You say in a more controlled tone. “I’d like a tall Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel and a Chocolate Chip Muffin, please.” You hand her your credit card and she types away the order, swiping the card in the slot. 

 

“What’s your name?” She grabs a new paper cup and a papermark from the side pocket of her apron, ready to write your name down. 

 

“Quinn Fabray?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even in a stadium full of people cheering for their teams to win the championship. 

 

“Rachel?” You turn around. You need to know it’s not a dream. You’re not imagining this, even if you’ve been playing it for years in your head. It’s real and she’s there, still as gorgeous as ever or even more so. 

 

“You’re in NYC.” She steps closer to you, almost afraid you’d disappear in front of her. It’s what you’re thinking about her. One step and you’ll wake up, in your apartment in New Haven with the other side of the bed empty and cold.

 

“So are you.” You probably sound dumb, but you’re at loss of better words, despite your degrees on the wall. 

 

“I’ve been here for the past 8 years, Quinn.” She chuckles and stands in front of you, with a shy smile that still makes the room a little brighter and your heart race faster. 

 

“Order for Quinn!” Another voice breaks your moment. You curse under your breath and turn around to get your breakfast. Part of you is scared to turn back around and find her gone, but you don’t need to because she is stepping up to the counter and you’re following her with the corner of your eyes. You’re following every move or small gesture she makes. 

 

“Are you in a rush?” She sides up to you, brushing her arm against yours. “Or can you stay to catch up?”

 

“I’ll get us a seat.” You scan the room and find a booth, just vacated by another student. One of those hipsters with a beard too long and pants too short to cover their shins. You sit down and undo the buttons of your suit jacket, releasing a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

 

“I got you more napkins.” She sits across from you, holding the cup with one hand and the other laid over her lap. 

 

“Thanks, there’s never enough for a messy eater like me.” You bite into the muffin, making a mess on the table and all over your chin. You feel the chocolate cream dripping down the side of her lips and get dangerously close to your pristine Burberry shirt, but Rachel is quick to wipe it off with the pad of her thumb. 

 

“You’re still a mess.” She licks her finger clean and drinks from her cup. The mere gesture makes your stomach twitch in desire and your eyes darken. You remember all the delectable things those lips did to you and your mind decides to go there, right now, when you’re a mess - physically and mentally.

 

“You didn’t complain much, if I recall right.” You know she got your innuendo. You lick your lips, deliberately slow so you can drink in her reaction. As you predict, her cheeks tint and her eyes look away from yours, trying to hide her embarrassment. 

 

“How long are you staying?” She coughs and grabs her cup, hoping to soothe her dry throat. 

 

“Just tonight. I have a train ride back to New Haven, tomorrow morning.” You finish eating your muffin and wash it down with the Macchiato. It’s sweet. Too sweet for your own liking. 

 

“Oh okay.” She nods and starts playing with the napkins. She starts folding them in smaller triangles, forming a polygon with all of them. 

 

“You never called me.” You watch her hands. “You dropped from the face of the earth, after that night.” 

 

“You didn’t call me either.” She stares at you. She is trying to turn the tables, but you know you’ve got the upper hand here. She knows that too.

 

“To tell you what? ‘Hey, Rachel. Remember me? It’s Quinn, the girl you left behind after a mind blowing night of sex. Call me?’” You say in a mocking tone. 

 

“You thought it was mind blowing?” She seems surprised. 

 

“You don’t think so? That’s why you didn’t call?” You are confused. It was probably one of the best nights of your life. It was everything you’d have imagined it to be. It was everything you had dreamt of, until the morning after came and you had found yourself alone in the same bed, that had witnessed your passionate encounter. 

 

“No. It was amazing…” You watch her sigh. “It was the best night of my life, not only because you knew what you were doing but because...because it was with you.” She confesses softly. Her hands are itching to cover the distance between hers and yours. To hold onto your hands. You’re itching for that contact as well.

 

“Why did you leave me like that?” You fold your hands in your lap, not to give into the temptation of touching her. “I’ve been asking myself what I did wrong, for all these years.” 

 

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. It’s me…” She looks down at her hands, again. You sigh and check your watch. You feel incredibly tired, overwhelmed by the tiredness of a too early wake-up call and now this. 

 

“I should get going.” You stand up and grab your cup. It’s so cold that you just throw the remnants of the drink into the nearest bin. 

 

“Wait.” She follows you outside, empty handed. You are wondering if your workout regimen would still give you an advantage on her. She is short, despite her long legs, and she’s wearing higher heels than yours. You could make it. Her hand wraps around your wrist and you’re rooted in the spot. 

 

“I want to go back to my hotel room and sleep the rest of the day off, Rachel.” You look up at the clear sky. New York is buzzing with energy around you, but you feel drained. You could explore or just find a spot in Central Park, where to catch up on your book, but your body is screaming for your comfortable hotel bed and room service. 

 

“I don’t want to wait 4 more years, Quinn.” She stands in front of you, looking up with those deep chocolate eyes that never fail to make you melt on the inside. 

 

“I’m staying at The Strand, on the 37th Street.” As soon as you say it, you wish to take it back. You really don’t know what you’re going to put your heart through. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

You stand awkwardly in front of her door. The concierge let you in without too much of a hassle, probably she had already given them a heads-up about your visit. You knock on the door and just wait. It feels like seconds turned into hours. Has always been so warm in here? 

 

“Hey, you came.” Quinn stands, in front of you, clad in a pair of loose sweatpants and a Cambridge t-shirt. She is barefoot and her hair is wet, probably because she’s coming out of the shower. 

 

“Hey.” You walk inside the room and close the door behind yourself. She turns her back to you and just retrieves a towel from the desk by the bed, rubbing her wet hair with it. “Nice room.” It’s spacious and it has a great view on the Empire State Building. It’s not really cheap and it’s way better than the room Mr. Schue had booked for you all. Not that you remember much about it, despite the comfortable bed you both put to good use. 

 

“Do you want something to drink or eat?” She has dropped the towel and is looking at you, expectantly. 

 

“No, I’m fine.” You look anywhere but at her. You can’t really stare too long, without feeling the weird feeling in your stomach show up again. It’s always been like that with her, since you were enemies in high school. Since you fought for the same stupid guy.

 

“Why did you come here, Rachel?” She is direct. She has her arms crossed over her chest and her ankles crossed. She is tense and is guarding herself. 

 

“To talk.” You stand in front of her. “To apologize for having broken your heart.” 

 

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, don’t you think?” She’s bitter and you can’t blame her for it. 

 

“I’m supposed to believe that our night together didn’t mean anything to you? Emotionally speaking?” You know she’s lying to you. She’s lying to herself as well. “It wasn’t meaningless sex, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so hurt by me leaving you like that.” 

 

“Maybe I was bitter about you doing it first?” She’s building so many walls around her, that you should’ve approached it in a different way. 

 

“So you’re hurt because I was a better bitch, for once?” You can’t help the bitter remark. Her attitude is infuriating and you’re slowly losing your patience. 

 

“Thanks for admitting that.” She smirks and reaches behind herself, in her purse. She retrieves a pack of Marlboro Light and drops a stick in her palm. “You want one?” 

 

“You should quit.” Your faces says it all. Smoking was bad for her, yet surprisingly alluring. 

 

“Maybe I will, right now I need it.” She walks to the balcony and lights it up. She leans over the railing, with her arms crossed over it and her head held up high, basking in the afternoon sun setting over the city. 

 

“You’re not going to accept my apology?” You lean against the window still and look at her slouched shoulders. 

 

“I haven’t heard a proper apology to accept or reject, yet.” She throws back at you. You hate her for being right. Your presumptuous speech hasn’t gone anywhere and she’s still here, waiting for you to make your move. 

 

“I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I’m sorry because I got scared of what you made me feel that night. It was my first time with a woman and I had my chance with the only woman I could ever fantasize about, since we were in high school and you strolled down the hallways in your sinful cheerleader outfit.” You chuckle at the memory. “I got scared because I felt so...I felt so complete and so happy. Happier than I had ever been with Jesse or with Finn and it made me feel guilty.” You look up in the sky, wondering if he’s looking down at you both. You wonder what he’s thinking of you two fighting over your mutual feelings, rather than your feelings for him. 

 

“Guilty about being with a woman? Or being with me?” She kills the cigarette in the ashtray. 

 

“I’m not ashamed of my obvious bisexuality.” You look at her, but her back is still turned to you. 

 

“Then you’re ashamed of me?” She turns around, leaning back into the railing behind her. She’s leaning back too much for your own liking, so you step up into her personal space and grab her by the front of her shirt, keeping her on her solid feet. 

 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” You could never be ashamed of her. Or of your feelings for her. 

 

“What should I put in your mouth, then?” She smirks and lowers her forehead against yours, pushing you softly back. It’s not a real push. It’s like having a cat headbutting you gently, to express their love for you. To tell you they care. 

 

“Perv.” You cup her cheeks and close your eyes. Her smell is intoxicating and the nicotine is making it even harder not to jump her. 

 

“I’ve never been happier in my life, before and after that night.” She confesses against your ear. Her lips brush the shell of your ear, reminding you of the many soft whispers and moans released against your ear as you lost yourselves in the throes of your passion. 

 

“Quinn…” You fight the tears back. You bury your head in her neck, holding onto her back with dear life as her arms wrap around you, tugging you closer. 

 

“Just stay tonight.” She whispers again, knowing your talk is not over but you just need this. You both need this to keep going. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

She’s restless. You feel her toss and turning, tugging the covers in the process, so you end up with the very furthest corner of the duvet, with half of your front uncovered. 

 

“Stop hogging the covers, Berry.” You groan in frustration. It’s been a long day and you only want to sleep it away, but Rachel has apparently something against being quiet. You can’t remember her being so difficult the last time you slept together. Maybe it’s because you were too preoccupied fucking, to think about sleep. Maybe it’s because you ended up sprawled on your back, with her on top.

 

“Sorry.” She says in a voice that sounds too small and shaky.

 

“What’s wrong?” You roll around to face her back. With her grip slackening, you manage to slide across the mattress and press up in her back, slipping your right arm over her waist.

 

“Nothing.” She mumbles in the pillow. Your hand slides under her, to cup her face.

 

“You’re crying.” You feel the wetness against your palm. You sigh. You hate making her cry.

 

“It’s nothing. Go to sleep.” She nuzzles into your hand, with more tears landing on your skin.

 

“I can’t ignore it.” Your head nestles against her neck and your lips kiss the skin of her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears. “What’s going on?” You cradle her head with your arm, letting your other hand slide down her front and rest on her stomach, under the shirt she borrowed from you.

 

“Is this the last time I’ll ever see you?” She places her hand over yours, on her stomach, and brushes her thumb over your knuckles.

 

“I don’t know.” You could be lying, to make her feel better. But you really don’t know. You even contemplated leaving before she woke up, but it was just a temporary thought. “My life is in New Haven, for now.”

 

“Okay.” She sniffs and curls more on herself. 

 

“I’m…” You burrow yourself closer, kissing the shell of her ear. “We could keep in touch? For real, this time.” 

 

“And be friends?” She chuckles sarcastically. “We tried being friends and it didn’t work out. I can’t be your friend, even if I’d want to.” 

 

“Why not?” Your grip slackens. Are you so bad that you don’t even deserve her friendship?

 

“Because…” She turns around. Her hand grips the front of your t-shirt, bunching the fabric in her palm. “Because I’d wonder what being more than your friend feels like. I would want more.” 

 

“Rach…” You sigh and look down at her. “You had your chance.” 

 

“And I blew it like an idiot.” She presses up into you, brushing her lips against your jawline. “Give me another chance, to make it right.” She tucks her head under yours, embracing you tightly. “To get it right.” 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

True to your words, you’ve been trying. It’s hard, but you’re still as stubborn as your young self and you’re throwing yourself into this, head first and heart second. Watching her get on the train back to New Haven wasn’t a simple sight. You’ve held onto her hand until the very last moment. Distance isn’t that bad, but it’s not like having her in the same City or, even better, in the same room. 

 

It’s a three day weekend and she’s just minutes away from getting off the train, to spend it with you. You stand on the platform, with your hands clasped in front of you, waiting for the train to get in and to see her again. You’ve got it all planned. You want the whole thing to be special and memorable. 

 

“Rachel.” Her voice comes from behind you. There’s no train so how did she get in? You turn around and find her in the crowd. She is beautiful. She always has been. She always will be. 

 

“Quinn.” You walk fast, pushing people aside and jumping over baggages to get closer, in a faster way. You stand in front of her and you don’t know what to do. Do you hug her? Do you kiss her? Both? 

 

“When I played it in my mind, the whole station ended up singing and dancing with you. Glee was a terrible influence on our perception of reality.” She chuckles and lifts the duffel bag higher on her shoulder. “Taxi or underground?” 

 

“Whatever you want.” You start moving towards her, when someone slams into your back and you end up stumbling in her arms. She gets you. She’s always gotten you. 

 

“Hey, you okay?” She looks over your shoulder, to scold the person who did it but you don’t care. 

 

“Hi.” You bury your head under her chin, in the familiar spot that’s become yours. Your height difference is close to perfection. You can simply cuddle into her, without straining your neck or feeling smothered. She’s strong. She’s safe. 

 

“It’s good to be here.” She kisses your temple and hugs you to her. Her arms cross behind your back, holding onto your hips. 

 

“It’s good to have you here.” You confess against her ear. Your lips find her lobe and the skin behind it. You know she loves being kissed there. “Let’s go home, I’m sure you want to freshen up before we go out.” 

 

“I woke up too early for my liking.” She yawns against your forehead and lets you lead her out of the station, towards the main street. You take her by the hand and into the nearest cab. It’s not a long ride and it’s more comfortable for her back, than standing in an over crowded train with people squeezing in, like in a tuna box. 

 

“Anything specific you want to do while you’re here?” You play with her fingers, more specifically with the ring on her middle finger. It’s simple, yet elegant. It’s so Quinn. 

 

“Read about this new installation at MoMA.” She leans back against the seat, closing her eyes. She is fighting her tiredness and you find it adorable.

 

“I’ll get us the tickets.” You kiss along the column of her throat, feeling it move under your touch. Your hand travels up her side, under the jacket she’s wearing, brushing over the shape of her bra. 

 

“You don’t have to pamper me, to get me naked.” She smirks and catches your lips in a soft kiss, before you can even start protesting. It’s a welcomed kiss. You haven’t kissed in weeks and you had missed her taste and texture. 

 

“I can’t get you naked now.” You pout against her mouth. She chuckles and pecks you soothingly, just by the time the cab pulls over in front of your apartment. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

“Hey.” You come out of her room, still sleepy and sort of lost. You don’t even recall having fallen asleep in her bed, after your shower, but apparently you did and you don’t even know what time is. 

  
“Good afternoon.” She drops the knife and wipes her hands on a towel, before getting closer to you. She’s still wearing her clothes, with an apron around her waist, but she’s barefoot. You are too, because you can feel the coolness of the hardwood floors against your toes. 

 

“How long was I out?” You suppress a yawn. Your muscles are sore and you just want to drag her back to her bedroom, so you can take a nap together. Her bed has been comfortable enough to give you pleasant dreams, but it’d have felt better with her to cuddle with. 

 

“90 minutes or so.” She stands in front of you, with a soft smile. “You looked so tired, I had no heart to wake you up for our lunch reservation. So, I made something quick.” She nods towards the kitchen counter. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep for so long…” You reach for her and pull her close. Your hands untie the knot of her apron, to lower the number of layers between your bodies. 

 

“You’ve been working too much.” Her fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. She twists and undoes them one by one, without even looking at them. 

 

“I did some overtime, so I could extend my stay.” You smile at her surprised face. “I’m staying the whole week, if that’s fine for you.” You should’ve told her, not to mess up with her plans. 

 

“Are you kidding me?” She smiles up at you and pulls you down for a hard and needy kiss. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself, for 10 days.” She pushes the shirt off you, followed by your bra. She’s gotten so good at this. 

 

“You’ll get sick of me.” You grab her by the back of her thighs and hoist her up, over your hips. Years of cheerleading with Sue were worthy, after all. 

 

“Not possible.” She gasps when her back collides with the wall by the door. Her arms lock around your neck, holding onto you for dear life as your hands move under her skirt to go past her damp panties. 

 

“Good.” Your head drops against her shoulder, panting in her neck as your fingers slip under the thin cotton of her underwear and inside of her. Lunch can always wait. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

“Are you awake?” You tilt your head upwards to stare at her face, from your position. Your cheek rubs against her shoulder and your hand trails over the skin between her breasts, feeling the rhythm of her heart under your palm. 

 

“Yes.” She tilts her head to the side to stare down at you. “Are you alright?” She tucks your hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, with her thumb. 

 

“I’m good.” You smile. Your body aches all over, in a way that reminds you of when you overdo yourself on your elliptical, after a long pause from it. 

 

It’s not a bad ache. It’s your muscles telling you they stretched in a way you couldn’t think possible. All because of her. 

 

“Good.” She sits up on her elbows and you follow after her. You straddle her in the middle of your bed, with the blanket pooled around your lower body and thighs. 

 

“Where are you going?” You push her back and lower yourself on your elbows, each side of her head. “You’re not going anywhere, without my permission.” You lower your lips on hers. You have kissed for long that you lost count of the exchanges. You can only feel the effects because your lips feel swollen. 

 

“Am I your captive?” She smirks. Her hands slip under the hem of the blanket to grab onto your backside. You’ve noticed how her hands tend to go there during your lovemaking. Either to urge your movements or to hold you in place, as she did other things with her mouth. 

 

“Yes. You’re mine.” Your words are still playful, but hold a meaning that you hope she catches. You haven’t put a label on this, yet, but you are 100% into this without thinking of anyone else. It’s only her.

 

“I’ve been yours for years.” She smiles softly. 

 

“Quinn…” You bury your head in the crook of her neck, making it hard for you to be unaffected by her words. You feel more naked now than during the hours spent rolling around between your sheets with her moving against and inside you. 

 

“I love you.” It’s a whisper against your ear. You shiver and press harder into her. You’d crawl under her skin, to find solace within her, if you could. You feel like you can’t be close enough, yet you’re pressed so tightly into her that no one would tell when one started and the other ended. “I don’t expect you to say it back, but I couldn’t go any longer without telling you.” She kisses your cheek and temple. 

 

“Okay…” You tell her but it’s more for yourself. You’re afraid she’ll be mad, so you keep your head against her shoulder. You don’t feel her tense, nor stiffen under your touch. She is even more relaxed now. 

 

“Okay.” She pulls the blanket up over your back and tightens her grip around you. Her head adjusts on the pillow you’re sharing, but it’s still brushing against yours. Her nose is nuzzling into her cheek and her breath is warm against the corner of your lips. You watch her doze off into a peaceful slumber. She’s really fine. She’s made her move, now you realize the ball is in your court, again.

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

She’s been awkward and tense, since you said those three words to her. She’s like tiptoeing around you, almost like she’s trying to find a way to dismantle an emotional bomb buried inside you that should be exploding any moment. You’re not angry, nor disappointed. You always thought love had different paces, so you’re respecting her choice to go slower than you, as long as you’re both going the same way. 

 

You’re going through the business section of the New York Times and she’s struggling with her Sunday crossword. It’s odd to see her so frustrated over words, when you’re sure she swallowed a whole Encyclopedia when she was a kid. She could easily win a Nobel Prize for her knowledge. 

 

“Do you need a hand, honey?” You’re being sarcastic, but it feels like you’re in one of those classical vignettes: a couple sitting at the breakfast table, exchanging pleasantries over their morning coffee. 

 

“Just because you’re an Ivy League alumna, it doesn’t mean I can’t complete this little shit on my own.” She scribbles down something and then erases it hard, almost tearing into the paper. 

 

“The fact you cursed and properly used a Latin word in the same sentence makes me want to rip your clothes off and have my wicked way with you.” You smirk over the rim of your cup. 

 

“Stop trying distracting me with your sexiness, Fabray.” She blushes hard. 

 

“Is it working?” You stand up and walk behind her. Your hands push the straps of her spaghetti top from off her shoulders, so you can lower your mouth on her bronzed skin. 

 

“Stop it…” She’s speaking two different languages. Her mouth says something that her body is contradicting. Her head tilts to the side to allow you better access to her neck and shoulder. 

 

“Do you really mean that?” Your hands slide down her chest, slipping under the front of her top to cup her braless breasts. 

 

“Yes.” Her head tilts sideways to catch your lips in a hard and demanding kiss. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, circling your tongue and playing with it. 

 

“Do you want me to stop here or back in your bedroom?” Your lips are bruised. You’re one second away from hoisting her onto the table and slide yourself into her, but you refrain yourself. 

 

“What about the MoMA?” She pushes the chair back and stands up. She’s facing you and you’re the one distracted now. Her breasts are in full display and your hands are already palming them, on their own accord. 

 

“Screw art. You’re the only piece of art I want to stare at…” Your hands move to her ass and you’re flushed against her. Your t-shirt stands in the way of your chests being pressed together.

 

“You’re so romantic, when you’re horny.” She laughs and tugs your shirt off. You’re chest to chest. Hips to hips. 

 

“I’m always romantic with you.” You drop your mouth on hers, nibbling on her bottom lip. Your hands squeeze her ass through the shorts she’s wearing. They’re so sinfully short that you’re going to make her change into something else or you’ll end up ravaging her at any chance you get, even when you’re in public. 

 

“I love it.” She walks backwards towards her bedroom. You bump into a vase and a couple of shoes, but you make it to the bed safe and sound. You find yourself on your back with your sleep shorts around your feet. You don’t know how you ended up like that, but you could care less when she straddles you naked and eager to rock your world. 

 

“You’re so beautiful.” You can’t help yourself. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. Her and Beth. 

 

“So are you, Quinn.” She cups your face and kisses you hard. She’s pouring her heart in a simple kiss. You feel her love seep through her lips or the way her body moves against yours, searching for yours almost desperately. You feel it as she grinds against you, without leaving any space between your naked writhing frames. You feel it as you roll her over and sink into her heat with two fingers. She’s clinging to you with her nails and her insides. She’s holding onto you as you rock into her, bringing her to the edge of her pleasure. She’s chanting your name like a prayer and you feel like a superhuman, whose superpower is being able to love her. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

Couples fight. They all do. But given the limited number of days you got to spend together, you had hoped for 10 smooth days of pure bliss, before you both went separate ways with 80 miles in between. But you end up fighting on the second night she’s coming to your show and it’s always the perfect moment to throw anything from your past at each other, to see who can hurt the other the most. 

 

“Quinn, will you stop pacing?” You’re getting dizzy. You sit on your couch and watch her walk back and forth, like a mad woman. 

 

“It’s either this or I’ll go fetch my cigarettes.” She stops momentarily to get an answer from you. You sigh and lay back, resting your head against the back of the couch.

 

“Nothing happened and will ever happen, I’m not interested in him. Why can’t you trust me on this?” You run a hand through your hair. You’re tired. Your head is throbbing and your eyes feel moist, with unshed tears. 

 

“Why don’t you tell him you’re dating someone? They thought you were single!” She stares at you, with arms crossed over her chest. She has a point, after all. 

 

“So everyone at Yale knows you’re taken? That’s why you’re taking pictures with young female students?” You snarl. You’ve been stalking her social media profiles and you didn’t like some of her so-called friends. Why was Yale full of beautiful and rich girls? 

 

“Those who matter to me? Yes. They all know I’m with you.” She drops in the armchair across from you. “I’m a teacher assistant and it’s against the rules to date any student, Rachel. Don’t turn this on me.” 

 

“So if it hadn’t been forbidden, you’d have thought about going for it? Maybe behind my back?” You’re being unreasonable. You realize you’re being petty. 

 

“Geez, Rach. Do you hear yourself?” She stands up and walks to her purse, to get her cigarette pack and a lighter. She walks to the window and slips onto the fire escape. It seems fitting. 

 

You count few more Mississippi in your head before walking to the window as well. You slip outside and rub your arms together. It’s almost the end of May and it’s still chilly enough, to make you shiver after the sunset. 

 

“You should’ve brought a jacket.” She blows the smoke out of the corner of her lips. She’s blowing it to the side, looking over at the city skyline. 

 

“Can I sit with you?” You nod to the space between her legs, on the metal steps. 

 

“It’s a free country.” She’s mad. You brush her harshness off and sit on the higher steps, the closest to her. She doesn’t pull back nor sits further up. It’s a good sign, after all. 

 

“I don’t think you’d cheat on me with one of your students.” You whisper softly. You wonder if she’s even heard you. “I just said it because I was jealous…” 

 

“I know why you said it but it doesn’t make it any better.” She throws the cigarette away. You wonder if it’s gonna make it to the concrete without hitting anyone on their head. You need to have an ashtray by the window, from now on. “What are we doing, Rachel?”

 

“What do you mean?” You turn around to face her profile. She’s still looking off and away from you. 

 

“What are we? What’s this?” She looks at you and part of you wishes she hadn’t turned your way. It’s hard to hold her intense stare. It makes you feel so naked and exposed. She stares at you like she’s seeing through you, reading you like a book she knows by heart. 

 

“I thought we had made it clear. Are you having second thoughts?” You gulp. Is it over already? 

 

“I want to put a label on this, Rachel. I want to go back to New Haven knowing I have a girlfriend waiting for me here, in New York. I want to know we are not just filling the emptiness of our lives with casual sex, until something better comes along.” She takes a deep breath and grips the metal bars with a hard grip. “I want to know I’m not alone in this and you want to build something with me.”

 

“Quinn…” You cup her face and lean up to kiss her trembling lips. “You’re not alone.” You crawl into her lap and kiss her harder. “You’re already the best thing that could happen to me. ” You kiss her again. “I love you…” You’ve been feeling that for months, probably since you slept with her the first time, but you’ve always denied yourself the luxury to say it again, after him. You know he wouldn’t have understood, but part of you wishes he’s up there looking after you both. 

 

“I love you too.” She pulls you closer and kisses your tears away. You’re crying, without even noticing that. You’re shivering in her arms, both from the emotions and the coldness. 

 

“We should get you inside, before you catch a cold and your producer starts blaming it on me.” She helps you up and into your apartment. She crawls back inside after you and locks the window, as usual. 

 

“Quinn…” You grab her by the hand and step up into her arms. 

 

“Yes, babe?” Her fingers brush your bangs off your forehead, clearing the path for her mouth. She peppers your forehead with soft kisses. 

 

“If you ever found someone else, would you just tell me upfront?” You bury your head in her shoulder. You’re still scared someone better will come along for her. She could have anyone and she chose you. You’re still left to wonder why and how you deserved someone like her. 

 

“No.” She tightens the grip around you. “Because it won’t happen.” She sounds so sure and you want to believe her. But there’s a small part of you that can’t. It’s small, yet still there. 

 

“You can’t be sure.” You nuzzle into her. You feel safe with her. You feel so safe, that you wonder what would happen if she ever left you. Would you survive a life without her, now that you know what feels like being loved by her?

 

“I can.” She kisses your cheek. “I’ve been loving you for almost 10 years, Rachel.” She confesses in your ear, like a secret that should remain between you two. “You’ve been my first love and I’m sure you’ll be my last.” 

 

“But how?” You look at her, incredulous. How could she? 

 

“I didn’t know what I felt for you, back then, so I put these walls up and hid behind them to hurt you. It took me years to come to terms with my feelings for you.” She’s smiling, despite everything. 

 

“I wish you had told me sooner…” You can’t help wondering about different scenarios. What if she had told you sooner? What if you hadn’t been so obsessed with Finn? 

 

“We needed to be both ready for this.” She cups your face and kisses you softly. You nod and trust her on it. She’s probably right. You’re ready now. You’ve never felt readier. 

 

**RQRQRQRQRQRQRQRQ**

 

You’re in need for coffee. You need it so bad that you settle for entering the first Starbucks you find, just to get a dose of bad caffeine into your body. The past week has been a nightmare and you feel drained, despite the fact it’s only Wednesday and it’s not even 9:30 AM. You tap your fingers on the counter, dropping your head forward, in hope your stiff neck will stretch some and your headache will subside. 

 

“Hello, I’m Stacy. How can I help you?” She is so chirpy that she almost bothers you. You snap your head up and look at the list of beverages, hoping to find something so sweet and energizing, that you’ll feel your teeth ache. 

 

“Tall Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel syrup and double espresso pumps, please.” A voice from behind you precedes you. “Can you add a Green Tea with extra peppermint, for me? Everything for Quinn.” Familiar arms sneak around your waist and another front presses up into your back, instantly relaxing you. 

 

“How did you find me?” You look at her over your shoulder. She’s almost your height, due to the heels she’s wearing. 

 

“Do you want the romantic version or the other one?” She slips her credit card across the counter and takes the opportunity to kiss you sweetly. 

 

“Did you finally put the ‘Find Your Friends’ app to good use?” She’s not technologically inclined, but you’re fine with it. You love helping her with the small stuff, such as her iPhone software upgrades. 

 

“Maybe.” She presses you up against the counter and leans into you. Her fingers play with the buttons of your suit jacket. “You look so good in this.” She kisses the corner of your mouth. “Even better without it.” 

 

“You can take it off later.” You circle her waist with your arms and kiss her softly. You’re not one for huge PDAs, but you can’t resist her. You like her close.

 

“Always do.” She smiles and rests her head against your shoulder. You don’t need anything else, in this specific moment. 

 

“Order for Quinn!” The girl behind the counter yells your name, startling you both. You pull from her to get your cups and follow your girlfriend across the room, to the same booth you ended up sitting when you first reconnected, almost a year ago. 

 

“How can you drink that stuff? It’s so chemical that it should be illegal.” She sips her tea and watches you across the table. 

 

“It’s sweet.” You shrug. You look around and see the same familiar crowd come and go. Some take a seat. It’s always the same routine. You wonder if they know they play the same scene over and over again, each morning. 

 

“You’re thinking about your new article?” She slips her hand over yours. Her fingers brush over your knuckles, tickling you. 

 

“Sort of.” You turn back to her, smiling. She knows you so well. 

 

“Book?” She beams. You’ve been tiptoeing around the idea of your own book and, of course, she knows it’s your ultimate goal in life. At least professionally speaking. 

 

“Maybe.” You sip more from your cup. You smirk over the rim of your plastic cup, knowing she’s squirming to know more. 

 

“Tease.” Her fingers lace with yours. You stare down at them and you’re suddenly aware there’s something missing here. Something shiny that sits in a velvet box at home, in the back of the guest room closet. You need to go ahead with that. You’ve been waiting for the right moment, but any moment would be right with her. 

 

“You love me.” You bring her hand to your lips and kiss her ring finger. You don’t know if she notices the small gesture. 

 

“I do.” She smiles and stands up to slip in the chair besides yours. You turn to stare at her, returning the smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

 

You just keep playing those two last words in your head, hoping she’ll keep saying them as you stand together in front of your family and friends, in your white gowns, in a few months from today. 

 

**The End**


End file.
